Pictures on Silence

I didn't answer any calls from Vegas for the next four days. I ignored all their instant messages and texts. I didn't even leave the house until my dad asked me to get groceries. I might as well have dropped off the face of the earth.

Four days is a hell of a long time to do a hell of a lot of nothing.

To keep myself preoccupied from malevolent thoughts about Vegas and a certain individual from whence who hailed, I played a lot of music, wrote a lot of lyrics, and accepted a vague friend's proposal to go out together. Lyle MacArthur was technically an acquaintance of my brothers, though they didn't hang out much. Lyle: about my height, light brown hair, kind of tan, honey brown eyes, and the tight body of a guy who wrestled throughout high school.

I wasn't smitten; more apathetic towards anything else and figured, Eh, what the hell, a guy's a guy.
On our first date, Lyle decided to go traditional and took me to a movie. Talk about a yawn. If I hadn't fought to save face and stay awake, I'd have been out like Lindsey Lohan on a Friday night. Afterwards, we walked down to the closest Starbucks and had a heated discussion of the pro and cons of small coffee houses versus multi-national corporations. Lyle's dad owned a local sector of Starbucks stores. Bummer.

Despite our differences in opinion about where to buy coffee--though I refused to give in that it actually qualified at coffee-- I had an alright time with Lyle and wrote my cell number on his hand in sharpie at my door. "Try not to lose it in some incredibly painful or socially awkward way," I advised, smirking only slightly at that idea.

Lyle laughed and, deciding it was what he deserved, I tilted my head to give him a split-second peck on the cheek. He grinned as I waved from behind the closing door.

Sean called me a few minutes later. "Tyrnan said you were out," he informed me, "And Lyle wrote a note on his MySpace that said he had a date with a beautiful girl today. Should I put two and two together and ask how your date was?"

"Four-tastic," I replied, a grin crossing my face.

Jesse's voice called into the phone. "Give it up for kindergarten math! Alright!" I laughed for the first time in days.

My first real date--though moreso talking to two of my boys-- put me in such a good mood that I completely forgot about my problems for the rest of the day. So when the phone rang that night in the middle of Tyrnan and his friend Sam playing "Killer Queen", I sprinted down the stairs and skidded across the kitchen floor to pick it up. "Hello?" I asked cheerfully.

"Angie, hey, why haven't you answered any of our calls?"

My liver sank to the bottom of my ribcage. Why is it that people eat liver? Considering its what makes urine and filters out alcohol, I wouldn't want to go near one with any intention of not losing whatever I'd eaten that week. "Hi, Bren." He waited, which made me sigh with impatience. "Why do you think I didn't answer?"

"Just because you and Ryan had a fight doesn't mean you should ignore the rest of us."

"I'm for equal treatment of all things potentially dangerous to my health," I responded loftily, switching to the portable phone and curling up on the couch. "And those things include people who yell in my general direction."

Brendon clicked his tongue. "So you're just going to not forgive him?"

"I'm sorry, Brendon," I snapped, "But I am disinclined to forgive people who tell me that I'm useless. I get enough of that from myself."

As I sunk further into the ratty old blue couch, he didn't say anything for a minute. "He's really sorry," Bren said.

"Did he say those exactly words?" I asked unenthusiastically, staring up at the ceiling.

"Well, yeah. Like a hundred times. Which you would know if you checked your messages." I fished out my cell phone and saw that my voicemail had 27 unheard messages. I groaned. "He's had a really hard time these last few days, especially without you to talk to."

I laughed humourlessly. "Yeah, like I'm really that important to the Great Ryan Ross."

"You most definitely are," Brendon assured me. "And you're even more important to the regular nineteen-year-old kid Ryan Ross who just lost his dad and thinks he lost a really good friend." I slumped my shoulders, now feeling incredibly guilty. Brendon was right. Again. This was my fault. Again. God damn it."Know how I know? He's listened to almost nothing but your CD, just to hear your voice."

Instantly my cynicism flared up and I rolled my eyes. "As romantic as that sentiment is, it's far too maudlin to be true and makes it sound like Ryan's in love with me." Brendon didn't say anything, which made me scoff loudly. "Shut up, Brendon. That's imbecilic."

"Would you just talk to him?" he pleaded. "He's been so depressed it's hard to be in the same room with him, and you know that's bad when were talking about Ryan."

"He's not exactly Mister Bright and Bubbly," I argued weakly. Truth to tell, I was sick of not talking to the guys, Ryan especially. He and I could actually carry on intelligent conversations or conversations about nothing and I would still enjoy myself the same. A large part of me wanted to forgive him, but... I wouldn't let myself be a doormat. Not for him. Not again.

"Please, Angie."

I winced, rolling my neck around. "But... he told me not to talk to him," I tried lamely.

"Please."

I sighed. "Fuck. Fine. I hate you for guilt tripping me, though." Brendon wasn't even listening anymore, so I was just talking to myself. Yet again. Somehow I always ended up talking to myself at least three times a day. Sometimes I thought I forgot how to speak English and nobody understood.

"Angie, I'm so fucking sorry. Please, please forgive me."

Oh what do you know, Ryan's back.

"Hi, Ryan," I greeted tiredly. He started to go into another apology so I cut him off. "Yes, it's fine."

"No, it's not," Ryan contested. "I had no right to yell at you like that, and I'm really, really sorry."

"I know you are." I leaned my temple onto my fist and shut my eyes. So long, good mood. I hated when people apologised so profusely; it made them look subsidiary. And yeah, I was a goddamn hypocrite.

"Angie?"

I took a deep breath. "All is forgiven, Ry," I said emotionlessly. My life is an endless circle of repetitive actions that, no matter, no one ever remembers doing: jamais vous.

Ryan paused momentarily. "You're no good at lying, but I guess it's okay, because I'm terrible at keeping things together."

"~You're no good at lying, and I'm no good at comebacks~," I sang softly. Ryan laughed slightly, which admittedly brought up my mood. I could almost see his smile. Sitting up straight, I switched the phone to my other ear. "Brendon said you've been listening to the album."

"Yeah, everyone bought it the day it came out," he answered, drifting off. "But it's no substitute for the real thing." This threw me for a loop. I really didn't know where to begin to respond to that; it kind of sent my head spinning, actually. Ryan must have realised this because he continued, "And thanks for sending the hat."

"The magic hat makes everything better," I reminded him, smiling. We both laughed quietly, still in awkward territory. Ryan cleared his throat and inquired as to what I'd done for the past four days. "Played a lot, sang a lot, kept myself occupied until day after tomorrow." I would never admit it was to keep from thinking about him; that would sound stalkerish and creepy. "I went out with this guy."

Ryan seemed at higher attention on the other end. "Oh yeah? How was it?"

"Y'know," I replied obscurely. "It was alright. We went to a movie and Starbucks; got into a discussion about our coffee house preference."

"You thinking about going out with him again?"

There was something in Ryan's voice that I couldn't place, and I didn't know why he seemed so damn interested all of a sudden. But I figured I was just being paranoid and reading into things again. "Yeah, probably. I gave him my number."

"Oh." We had somehow moved farther into awkward territories of conversation, rather than out of it as I intended. "Well, that's cool."

"Yeah."

Oh my fucking god! I yelled in my head after a minute and a half of silence.What the hell is going on?! Why the fuck is this so weird?!

"I can understand why people hate me. I'm always doing stupid things like this."

I blinked and pulled the phone away to look at it. Surely he'd meant to say that in his head. "People don't hate you, Ry," I assured him. "Don't be so self-deprecating. You"re Ryan Ross: intelligent, funny, adorable," --gorgeous-- "stylish, talented," --perfect-- "incredible... what's not to love?"

Ryan didn't say anything for a long time. I wasn't just waiting for someone to say something, like before; I wanted him to tell me I was right; I wanted him to laugh and be okay.

"Do something for me?"

"Sure, Ry," I promised. "Anything." Anything to make this better.

"Sing me something," Ryan requested, begging like a little boy for another cookie: you know you shouldn't but he's just too damn adorable to deny him. "Sing me Autumn Leaves Revisited."

For some reason, I smiled widely. Ryan was a real self-esteem booster with the simplest things. So I started, hardly above a whisper. I hummed the major melody during the instrumentals and my voice almost broke at the last verse. I didn't want to hurt Ryan with a reminder of reality, but I marched headfirst through it anyway.

"~The leaves will fall, and so will you~," I sang quietly into the phone, "~When you do, bury me under them, too. Seconds pass, well make it through. Eventually, we all are going home~."

I took a deep breath, feeling lethargic and calm all over, and shook myself from my personal performance-induced stupor. "Ryan?"

When he didn't reply, I said his name again. "Hello?" someone else asked.

"Spencer?"

"Angie? Hey, Angie. Nice to finally hear from you."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. What happened to Ryan?"

Spencer chuckled. "Ryan's out cold on the couch. Good to see, since he hasn't been sleeping much. Your doing?"

"I guess," I said with more than a little surprise.

Spence laughed. "So everything's cool between you guys now, right? I don't have to listen to Ryan sigh and say, 'No, nothing's wrong,' and sigh again when someone asks what's wrong...do I? I might have to find some creative way to kill him if I do."

I chuckled at the mental image of Spencer strangling Ryan with the cord of a hair straightener. "Yeah..." I drifted off, realising that we hadn't really solved anything. He'd changed the subject and distracted me from the fact that he was still acting weird. However, I decided not to clue Spencer into this reality. Keep everyone happy, you know? "I think I'm going to go now. Talk to you later, Spencerface."

"Make sure you do this time, Angiepants," he said.

I clicked off the phone and sat back motionlessly. After a long moment, I shook my head and onerously pulled myself up. "Today has been a very strange day," I mumbled to myself.